


Piercing

by Threshette



Category: Lancer (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Other, POV Second Person, characters with unspecified pronouns are always nb, rivalry but make it horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshette/pseuds/Threshette
Summary: An Albatross and a Constellar Midnight walk into a training sim. Written at Crybaby's unintentional request.
Kudos: 5





	Piercing

Training:

"Useless."

You can hear her, that's how you know you're still in the sim. Everything from the bridge of your nose up is gone, speared on the point of her White Witch's lance, but through the magic of the deck you can still hear that laugh of hers. Nails down an iceberg.

You grit your teeth in the meatspace, disconnect your blood-and-bone jaw from the smoke-and-mirrors jaw that hangs from your destroyed skull. "Again."

She practically rolls her eyes over the commlink. "Fine. Hard reset."

The brief black nothing of the rollback. Body back in the Vlad, brain back in its skull, all's right with the world.

"En garde," she says.

This time. This time you'll get her.

Lance held high, shrike plates shining. You're ready now, you know it.

"Allez."

This time it only takes her fifteen seconds to kill you.

* * *

Resting:

"You bit your tongue," the nurse says. "Common issue if you're oversynced; I'll give you a scrip for dissociatives for the next time you sim."

You spit blood into the sink again, wipe your lips. "No."

"No?"

"I need the reactions," you say. "She's- she's Smith-Shimano, she knows these decks better than I do-"

The nurse narrows his eyes. "Choking on your own tongue for a flyboy stunt. What would your Wing say, ah?"

"I'm doing this for her," you snap. "For all of us."

"Yeah? What'd she do?"

* * *

Remembering:

"You fight like liars," she says, and you're ready to draw your saber right there.

Force your hands to grip the teacup tighter and hope she won't notice the tell. "I'm sorry?"

"I've seen the tapes you Wings put out. Not impressive. Are you trying to kill your targets or just show off?"

A measured sip. Buy yourself time to hold your tongue. "Our track record-"

"Don't talk to me about track record," she snaps. "Gendarmerie don't have casualty factors this bad. This isn't Pyrrhic victory, this is just human sa-"

You stand up from your seat before you can stop yourself. "You buy your way into the Makteba with decks and licenses and you have the nerve to insult us?"

"I wanted to know if it was as bad as the numbers made it look." She doesn't even stand up, eyes firmly planted on the tea set. "Now I wonder if it's worse."

"Tch!" You scoff. "Fine words."

"Ones I've earnt."

"Then you'll have no problems earning them again. Sim room, three hours."

* * *

"You think Maryam would stand for that? The nerve of her-"

"No," the nurse says. "No, I don't think she'd stand for you beating your head against a wall to break it down."

You spit again, but not to clear your mouth. "So you suggest I give up."

"No," he repeats, handing you a bottle from a nearby fridge. "I suggest you stop treating a Midnight like a common pirate."

* * *

Learning:

Two days later, and you and her are back in the white room.

"At least I thought you Wings had honour," she says. "Maybe you don't have that, either."

"I was foolish," you admit. "And I lost for it."

"And you won't lose now?" Her Witch circles the center of the room, air around it glimmering with half-conjured metal.

You heft your lance in response. "En garde."

"Typical," she mutters under her breath. Then, louder: "Allez."

Both of you are built to brawl, rip and shred and tear your way through anything in arm's reach. The only problem is she's built ten times tougher than you are, backed by the monstrous force that holds you and everything together.

You can't punch through that. But there is someone who can--

She lunges for you with that gigantic spear again, pulling it out of the air like a magician's trick. This time, though, you don't try to dodge; you do the opposite, opening up the softest bits of your hull as she swings in for the kill.

She stabs it clean through the Vlad's torso, and while she's in motion you swing in with your catalytic hammer. Sure, *she* dodges, but you're not going after her. 

You're going after the spear.

The blow connects and it snaps out of her hands, momentum carrying it through your torso completely and letting it fly out the back--where your free hand is there to catch it.

This thing could kill you through almost three meters of metal. You can kill her through that much, too.

She tries to unsummon it, but all she does is scour your Vlad's fists as you drive in for the head. The keening scream of steel on steel and the wet spurt of red from the jagged hole in the Witch tell you you've succeeded.

For a moment, dead silence over comms. 

Then, her voice smaller than you've ever heard it:

"Again."

**Author's Note:**

> War is bad but mechs are rad. Join the LANCER Discord at https://discord.gg/lancer.


End file.
